


Nothing Goes as Planned

by Squishy_TRex



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Family, Family Dynamics, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-17 19:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1399318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishy_TRex/pseuds/Squishy_TRex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five times she wasn't his mom and the one time she was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of these take place during Season 4 through the finale.

It’s on her third search when she starts to bring things back for him.

She’s still on the Governor’s trail, chasing ghosts at this point, but it’s either look for them out on the road or run from them in her dreams.

Her first two searches prove fruitless and when she returns from her second one, Carl is there to open the gate for her and Flame. His eyes betray relief at seeing her come back, but he doesn’t say anything other than that he’s happy to see her.

When she dismounts Flame, she hands the reins to Carl, flashes him a quick smile and makes her way back to the prison.

She’s halfway there when she hears unfamiliar laughter behind her. 

It’s a sound that dredges up too many memories, ghosts she’s been trying to put to bed. 

But still she turns to see Carl laughing as Flame nudges against him. His smile is real, big and bright, betraying his youth. 

Michonne swallows. Sometimes she forgets how young he really is. 

* * *

When Michonne goes out again the next day, Carl is there in the garden with his father and they lock eyes as she rides up to the gate.

She can tell he’s worried she won’t come back this time, that she’ll find what she’s looking for and leave them.

Leave him.

She sighs as she rides Flame out of the prison, willing herself not to look back at him.

Michonne won’t deny that the two of them have grown closer.

She heard about his mother’s death, whispers around the prison telling her of the circumstances, and the horrific outcome. The loss of her son is something she kept tightly locked to herself.

Both of them had gaping holes in their hearts, unimaginable losses they deal with by pushing them down underneath everything else they have to live with.

A motherless child and childless mother.

It’s no wonder they gravitate towards each other, an abortive attempt to fill a void they try to pretend doesn’t exist. And they are building something, something resembling closeness Michonne has not had in a long while. Building something that could be real. 

But she’s not his mother. And he’s not her son.

What they have will have to do. And he deserves to know that she cares, that she won’t just up and leave.

When she comes back from her third search, Carl is there waiting at the gate for her and pulls it open as she rides through.

Michonne dismounts and pulls out a small stack of comic books for Carl, watches as his face lifts in delight. She returns the smile.

She’s not his mom. But she’ll do what she can.


	2. Comic Heroes

“Who would win in a fight: Batman or Superman?”

Michonne looked up from sharpening her sword to meet Carl’s inquisitive gaze from across the table. He had been steadily making his way through the new stack of comics she had brought back for him, most of which had featured Superman. She grinned at him.

“Oh, that’s easy. Batman for sure,” she replied before returning back to her previous task.

Carl rolled his eyes.

“Psssh, in your dreams.” Michonne looked up again to stare him square in the eye, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, really?”

Carl huffed dramatically.

“Oh, come on, you think Batman could beat Superman? Batman doesn’t have any powers and Superman’s….well he’s Superman!” He threw out his arm on the last line for emphasis. Carl leaned back a little, arms crossed, lifting his eyebrows in a challenge.

Michonne shook her head and laughed. She set her sword aside and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“You know, I’m going to let you off easy because I don’t have enough time to explain how wrong you are. But I will say this: Batman doesn’t have a weakness to Kryptonite.”

Carl rolled his eyes so hard, Michonne was afraid they were going to fall out of his head.

“Yeah, whatever.”

She smirked. He stuck his tongue out at her, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Your turn,” he said, leaning forward to match her position.

“Okay,” she rubbed her chin, miming an expression of deep thought. “Hmmmm…how about…Wonder Woman vs…Green Lantern.”

Carl waved a hand at her dismissively.

“Oh come on, that’s too easy! Wonder Woman could totally take on Green Lantern!”

Michonne raised one eyebrow. She had a feeling this was going to become a habit with this kid. 

“Really?”

Carl nodded his head vigorously.

“Yeah! I bet she could take on Superman too. Hell, probably the whole Justice League!”

Michonne chuckled.

“Got a thing for Wonder Woman, huh?”

Carl shrugged.

“Wonder Woman’s awesome.” He tilted his head down a bit to stare at his hands splayed on the table. His grin started to slip away.

“She was always my mom’s favorite.”

Michonne’s smile immediately dropped from her face.

“She liked to watch the old TV show,” Carl continued.  He started to loosely wring his hands, his face staring squarely at the surface of the table. “I remember how we’d sometimes watch it together after I came back from school. She…she told me that was who she wanted to be…that she was….” Carl’s voice trailed off, the sentence interrupted by soft sniffling.

Michonne reached across the table to grab Carl’s fidgeting hands and gently wrapped them within her own, rubbing her thumbs against the skin.

He looked up at her, his eyes slightly glistening.

“When I go out again, I’ll be sure to look for some Wonder Woman comics,” she said, trying to be as soothing as she could.

He smiled, a bit shyer this time.

“Thanks.”

She just squeezed his hands and smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Lori would have definitely been a fan of Wonder Woman and I'm guesstimating that she'd be around the right age to have appreciated the old tv show when it originally aired.


	3. Piggyback

The last time Michonne remembered running that fast was from walkers.

But when she saw Carl collapse over by the fields, she dropped the buckets she’d been carrying and raced over to him.

He had been working in the garden nearly all day, at least from what Michonne had seen. Rick had gone back inside the prison to help solve some sort of dispute in the cell block and when he had passed her, asked if she would check on Carl. Thank God for his overprotective instincts.

When Michonne finally reached Carl, she instantly dropped down and checked for a pulse. She released a sigh of relief when she heard a soft moan and saw the soft rise and fall of chest. His face was deeply flushed, redder than the tomatoes he was supposed to be tending to. She ran a hand over his face, feeling it burn to the touch.

His eyes fluttered open and Carl sluggishly tried to bat her hands away.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, his voice coming out hoarse. If Michonne wasn’t so worried she would have fixed him with a harsh glare. Instead, she settled for a look of mild disapproval mixed with a sizeable amount of worry.

“You are the absolute opposite of fine,” she said, reaching out to steady him as he struggled to sit up.

“I can keep going,” he responded, his hands clenched into fists, his sunburned face giving her a look of determination. This time, Michonne did fix him with a glare.

“I know you don’t think I’m stupid enough to buy that.” Carl huffed and looked away.

Michonne sighed and rubbed her temples.

“I know you’re trying to help your dad, but I promise the garden will keep while you take a break. You’re in no condition to keep working out here.”

She knew that Carl needed to get out of the sun and should probably get looked at by Hershel, but he was absolutely in no condition to walk back to the prison. Even now, she could see him start to sway and, with a sigh, realized what she had to do.

She turned around and squatted, displaying her back to Carl.

“Hop on.” She could hear a groan from Carl.

“I can walk up to the prison myself.” Michonne resisted the urge to turn around and glare at him again.

“Are you trying to argue with me when you can barely stand up?” She didn’t have to look at him to know that he was scowling.

“I’m giving you a piggyback ride to the prison so Hershel can take a look at you and you are not going to complain about it. Or I go and get your dad.”  She could hear him sigh in resignation behind her as he awkwardly clambered on. She smiled. Michonne: 1, Carl: 0.

She firmly grasped the back of his knees and hoisted him higher on her back as she stood up. His arms came up around her neck and clasped each other tightly.

“Oof. You’re heavier than you look,” Michonne said as she started walking towards the prison. Carl only grunted in response, burying his face in the side of her neck.

Michonne’s face softened in a smile as she felt him curl up against her. Stubborn as he was, there was no way she could ever stay upset with him.

* * *

Michonne entered Carl’s room to see him resting on his bunk, nursing a cup of water, with Hershel packing up his things and getting ready to leave. When he saw her standing in the doorway, he graced her with the grandfatherly smile that almost seemed permanently affixed to his face.

“He’ll be fine. Just suffered from a little heat exhaustion. And he’s going to have a nasty sunburn for a while. But he’ll survive. I left some more water by his bed. Make sure he drinks it.” Michonne smiled.

“Thanks, I will,” she said. Hershel returned her smile and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder before exiting the cell.

She made her way to Carl’s bedside and sat on the stool Hershel had just vacated.

“How are you feeling?”

Carl looked up at her, a bashful smile on his face.

“I feel a lot better,” he said. He sighed and fidgeted slightly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“All’s forgiven. I’m just glad that you’re ok. You scared me when you collapsed out there,” she said. Carl scoffed.

“You sound like my mom,” he replied flippantly, taking a long drink from his cup.

Michonne’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands curled into small fists on her knees and she pressed her lips into a thin line, allowing herself to breathe before responding. She tilted her head towards him.

“Well, I’m sure she would’ve been worried too. And somebody’s gotta look out for you, if only for her sake,” she said, taking Carl’s now empty cup from his hands. She could feel him staring at her, but ignored it in favor of refilling his cup. The only sound in the room came from the water being poured and the faint bits of chatter that bounced off the prison walls.

“Thanks,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

“Hmmm?” Michonne finally willed herself to look up at Carl as she passed the cup back to him. She was met with the sweet, innocent smile she had come to love so much.

“For looking out for me.” She smiled softly at him and reached over to brush some hair out of his sunburnt face.

“Anytime.”     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little bit longer, but I wanted to show the piggyback ride and the aftermath. Because, let's be honest, piggyback rides are adorable.


	4. Close

It didn’t take long for everyone at the prison to notice how the two gravitated towards each other.

If Carl wasn’t trailing after his dad, he could almost always be found wherever Michonne was. Anytime someone (Rick) was looking for Carl, everyone would just shrug and say, “You’ll find him wherever Michonne is.”

In fact, the only time he didn’t seem to be in her vicinity is when she left on her fruitless searches. And he was always the first one to welcome her back, whether she had something for him or not.

It was agreed in the whispers around the cellblocks that the two were like peas in a pod and wasn’t that nice he hasn’t been close to anyone since his mom died and she has such a lovely smile when they’re together, a mother’s smile, to be sure.

And indeed, the two had all the bearings of a fragile intimacy, finding something in the other that couldn’t be found elsewhere. In each other’s presence, they walked in tandem, whispering and laughing, trading secret smiles.

He was younger with her, which always surprised everyone. This life wasn’t made for children and the recent safety had barely ebbed those thoughts. But even with the new additions, Carl had never seemed a child and it was only now that they started to remember he was barely older than 10.

But Michonne made him laugh, made him giggle, wiping the hardness from his eyes, the scowl from his face. And in his presence, the other residents were reminded that she was whole, was capable of humor and life, gentle teases and kind words flowing from her lips, the boy being able to draw them out as easily as water from a full well.

But as loud and spirited as they could be around each other, they had their quiet moments as well, moments that betrayed even more of the ease and intimacy they had created.

It was in one of those moments that Beth spotted them. She had been searching for Carl, at least, and figured she’d have a better chance of finding him if she looked for Michonne instead. Sure enough, she stumbled across the two of them in a small corner of the library that Michonne had silently staked as her own. But when she saw them, she didn’t have the heart to interrupt, not yet anyway.

Michonne was sitting against a wall, book in hand, slightly leaning against the shelf on left. And beside her, curled up against her side like an attention-starved kitten, was Carl, softly sleeping. Her arm was wrapped around him, her fingers absent-mindedly brushing through his hair.

Beth stood there silently for a minute or two, Judith becoming a little noisy in her arms, and saw how Michonne gracefully moved her right hand to turn the page of her book without disturbing Carl in the slightest.

“You’d make a good mother,” she said, the words flying out of her mouth before she could stop them. Michonne looked up at Beth, meeting her with a defensive gaze.

Beth started to flush in embarrassment.

“I-I didn’t-,” Just as she was about to say something to try and recant her statement,  Judith started fussing a little louder and started to grab at Beth’s hair. The noise disturbed Carl, who shifted in Michonne’s embrace only to curl in closer to her. Beth quietly shushed Judith and pulled her close. When she looked up again, Carl had drifted back to sleep. But Judith wasn’t going down as easily.

“I’ll go back and tell them you’ll both be around later,” she said, already turning away.  The words fell on deaf ears as Michonne had turned her attention back to Carl. She had drawn him closer and fully leaned against the shelf, book forgotten.

Beth left Michonne with her eyes closed and Carl tucked underneath her chin, the words she had let loose still ringing true in her head.


	5. Not my Mom

The day was quiet, not even a wind to soften the still air. For once, even the walkers were keeping still, only a select few pressed against the gates.

Carl sat on the steps that led into the cell blocks, knees drawn up against his chest. He had his arms loosely wrapped around them, his chin resting on top. Curled into himself, he stared out into the courtyard, focusing on nothing in particular.

Noise from inside the cellblocks drifted outside, laughter and cheerful quips, giggling and amiable chatter. If he concentrated, Carl could pick out individual voices. The gruff mumble from Daryl. Beth’s lilting voice. Hershel’s deep chuckle. His dad’s rough laughter, with the slight Southern twinge embedded in it.

Carl scrunched up further into himself.

He knew what was happening inside.

They were celebrating Judith’s birthday.

Well, what they assumed was Judith’s birthday. Truth be told, she probably wasn’t older than 6 months. But on the last run, Daryl had managed to find a few decently preserved desserts, including some pudding, and everyone in the prison decided to celebrate.

But even if it wasn’t the exact date of her birthday, celebrating the occasion caused a hole to open up in Carl, threatening to swallow him whole.

He loved Judtih. Loves Judith.

But he won’t ever forget what her birthday means to him.

Maggie had caught his eye before he fled. She had seen the hollow look on his face and pressed her lips together in a thin line, laughter immediately wiped from her face. She nodded at him once before he swiftly departed the cell block.

He had been sitting outside for a while. Maybe the better part of an hour. Maybe ten minutes. Time was funnier now. Couldn’t really be measured anymore. But in some ways time hadn’t changed.

People could still be lost in the blink of an eye.

_Baby, I don’t want you to be scared, okay?_

Carl clenched his hands into fists.

His mother’s words echoed in his ears, like she was still here saying them to him. Like she hadn’t left.

_You’re gonna be fine._

Truth be told, Carl wasn’t sure she had. He knew when his father stopped and gazed off into the distance, eyes clouded and hands trembling, that he was seeing her. Sometimes Carl thought he could see her too.

_You are gonna beat this world._

Carl heard the creaking of a cell block door. The sound disturbed him from his position on the steps and he turned to see who was coming outside. As the door opened, the light from the sun hit his line of sight in such a way that he was blinded. And for a second, he saw his mother.

_I know you will._

His breath caught in his throat, only leaving him enough to whisper one word.

“Mom?”

Then the door started to close, revealing the figure to be Michonne. Carl blinked, his face quickly schooled into a neutral expression while Michonne adopted a soft smile on hers.

“Thought I’d find you out here.”

Carl abruptly stood up. She held her hands up in a defensive position.

“Relax. I’m not here to take you in.” She moved a few paces closer, her posture more loosed and relaxed than normal.

 “Just wanted to check on you,” she said. Her smile morphed into a grin. “Your dad didn’t even have to put me up to it.” Carl didn’t return the grin. He crossed his arms and turned to lean against the railing by the steps.

They stood in silence, the sounds of celebration starting to die down behind them. After a few moments, Carl could hear her boots as she slowly walked up next to him to lean against the rail herself.

“She would be proud of you, you know.”

Carl looked up at her sharply. Her expression was more solemn but her eyes betrayed a fondness they had started to share more recently.

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I can tell that she would be happy to see how you’ve grown. Any mother would. You’re a sweet boy.”

_You’re my sweet boy._

Carl’s eyes widened and he clenched his hands into fists so hard that the indents of his nails started to cut into his flesh.

Abruptly pushing away from the rail, he turned towards her, his face a swirl of anger, his body coiled tense like a spitting cobra. 

“You can’t say that, you don’t know that!” He spat the words out with as much venom as he could muster.

“You’re not my mom!”

The words echoed out against expanse of the prison, reverberating off of cement, the sound filling the quiet air with a sharp burst of noise that rippled everywhere.

Michonne’s face flashed with something akin to shock before it became carefully neutral.

“No, I’m not,” she said, her voice as sharp as the steel she carried. For a moment, it seemed as if she made to leave, to go back inside the comfort of the cellblock. But she just sighed, the hardened expression on her face dropping back to something softer, something that tugged at Carl, softening his fury.

“But that doesn’t stop me from caring about you.”

_You are smart,_

Carl could feel his lip starting to quiver.

_and you are strong,_

Unshed tears started to build up behind his eyes and he tried to blink them away, hating himself.

_and you are so brave,_

But more came to take their place. A few began to escape and slipped down his face. He tried to wipe them away with trembling hands. His vision had started to blurry but he could see the fuzzy outline of Michonne move towards him. In between the tears, he could swear he could see his mom standing there in Michonne’s place, arms outstretched.

_and I love you._

And as she finally embraced him, he started to sob.

The tears flowed freely, soaking into Michonne’s shirt as she held him close, her arms tight around him, a hand gently rubbing circles in his back. His cries were muffled against her, but they rang loud in his head, as loud as they’d been ringing since they started so long ago.

She was still there. She was always going to be there.

She would never stop being his mom.

But she didn’t have to cast a shadow over everything. Not Judith. Not his dad.

And not Michonne.

In her embrace, Carl started to calm down, the sobs subsiding and his breathing slowing down. He allowed himself to sink into the comfort and safety she freely gave, unconsciously tucking himself under her chin.

_You gotta do what’s right, baby._

“I’m sorry.”

She didn’t respond but just unwrapped him from her arms and gently pushed him back in order to look him in the eye, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

She smiled at him as she moved her left hand to brush some of his long hair out of his face.

“It’s alright,” she said. “I won’t ever be your mother and I’m not trying to replace her. But I just want you to know that I’m here. And I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

This time, Carl allowed himself to smile back at her.

She straightened up and jerked her head towards the picnic tables out in the open yard.

“Come on. It’s too noisy in there for me. And if I have to listen to Glenn try to sing “Happy Birthday” again, I’ll have to put him outside to serenade the walkers.”

Carl chuckled, a smile permanently working its way onto his face.

She offered a hand to him.

_Don’t let the world spoil you._

He took her proffered hand and clutched it like the child he tried to pretend he wasn’t. Together , they walked down and sat on one of the tables, leaned against each other, with him tucked under arm and his head against her shoulder, both of them enjoying the remaining quiet of the day.

_You’re the best thing I ever did. And I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a few liberties with the timeline in this one since I don't think they were in the prison that long, but time is weird in this universe so I don't think it detracts too much.


	6. Mom

It’s the first truly happy night since they escaped Terminus.

They had all gathered around a decent-sized fire, laughing and chattering, merely basking in the presence of each other’s company. Enjoying the fact that they had put several miles between them and the false salvation, had finally found everyone, and for once, had more than enough food to go around, thanks to Daryl’s particularly lucky hunting party.

The firelight flickered across the members of the group, casting their various faces in a healthy glow. Maggie and Glenn were seated next to each other, with Beth tucked close to Maggie who hadn’t really let go of her sister since she’d been found. Daryl kept hovering in the background, never coming too close, but always keeping one eye on the girl, as if she was liable to disappear on him again. Carol, who was seated nearby sharpening one of her knives, absentmindedly tugged on Daryl’s arm when he paced by her, gesturing him to sit down.

Tara was gesticulating wildly to Tyreese and Sasha, who started howling with laughter when she punctuated her movements with a sharp gesture using her fist. Eugene was looking over with interest at the raucous group while seated near Rosita and Abraham, who had decided to ignore everyone else in favor of each other, with Rosita giggling and Abraham giving her gruff smiles.

Rick surveyed over the group with Judith in his arms, gently rocking her as she drifted in and out of sleep. His gaze crossed over everyone, surveying the scene as subtly as he could, before his focus narrowed to his son.

Carl and Michonne were seated close together on the ground, nearer to the fire than others, with the boy leaning into her side, as Michonne read from some small book they had managed to find among the remains of their supplies.

Her voice was soft as she read the words aloud, but with the close proximity, she didn’t have to speak over anyone else. He was quiet, absorbing the words and the story that they weaved.

As she continued reading, Michonne could feel his weight press against her more insistently and when she heard a yawn right next to her ear, she chuckled, closing the book as she did so.

“Hey,” she nudged his shoulder gently. “Think it’s about time you turned in for the night.”

“Yeah,” he paused to yawn again and pressed his face further into Michonne’s shoulder. “Whatever you say mom.”

Michonne froze. Carl seemed completely unaware of the slip-up, settling further in against her as he started to drift off, head drooping down. She blinked, still processing what he just said. Her body was rigid and the hand that was still holding the book had started to tremble. But as she turned to look at Carl, his drowsy eyes coupled with the peaceful look on his face calmed her. She released a sigh, all of the tension draining out of her body.

He was perfectly at ease with her, this being one of countless times he had come to her for comfort or support or companionship and ended up leaning against her, sometimes falling asleep.

Michonne allowed a soft smile to grace her face. She placed the book on the ground and moved him so that his head rested on her lap, and his body was laid horizontally on the ground, another familiar position between the two of them. The only movement he made in response was to shift slightly and press his face deeper in her lap.

Without thinking about it, she started to gently run her fingers through his hair, the movements as familiar and steady as breathing. She continud the ministrations for a while, the dying heat of the fire cloaking them both in steady, drowsy warmth. The chatter started to fade as the world shrank to include just the two of them, with Michonne’s eyes drooping as she began to fall asleep.

A cough from across the fire broke the silence that had wrapped around Carl and Michonne like a protective bubble.

She looked up, and caught Rick’s eye. They locked gazes for a long minute, with Michonne holding her breath, until Rick’s gaze briefly shifted to his son, who had started to move slightly. He made a soft, unintelligible noise, but then followed it with the clearly articulated, “Mom?”

It was louder, the sudden tension on Rick’s face indicating that he heard it this time. Michonne was still holding her breath, but as Carl’s face started to twist into a frown, she released it suddenly.

“Right here,” she responded, heart hammering against her rib cage. Carl sighed and breathed out an “ok” and then fell back asleep.

Rick looked at his son until Carl had settled down again. When he looked back up, he locked eyes with Michonne again. She held her head up, almost defiant against his almost somber expression.

But his face then broke into a small smile and he gave her a slow, short nod.

She returned it, finally allowing herself to relax. As Rick went back to doting on Judith, Michonne returned her attention to Carl, who was now fully fast asleep, deep even breaths the only sound coming from him. She placed a gentle hand upon his head, gently thumbing across his brow as she watched over him.

Carl had gone long enough without a mother. It was high time he had one again.


End file.
